


Sonsick (I'll fall for you soon enough)

by crossingwinter



Series: Star Wars Drabbles & Ficlets [16]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Crack Treated Seriously, M/M, Sheev you golden-eyed flirt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-10-13 09:28:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20580248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossingwinter/pseuds/crossingwinter
Summary: Sheev and Snoke share a moment at the country club.





	Sonsick (I'll fall for you soon enough)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jeeno2](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeeno2/gifts), [Yours_Truly_Commander_Shepard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yours_Truly_Commander_Shepard/gifts).

> thanks ytc for the title.  
dedicated to jeeno who knows why.

“Another?”

The whiskey is gone, but the ice remains in the glass. Golden, like his jacket. Golden, like Sheev’s eyes.

“Well if you insist,” Snoke smiles and Sheev snaps his fingers and a red-suited waiter comes by. The glass disappears and it’s just the two of them once again, looking out over the golf course, sweeping out wide in the clear blue day.

“I’m glad you’re getting to spend more time out here,” Sheev tells him. “It’s good to have some good company here for a change. How’s your head?”

“It’s coming along,” Snoke replies. The accident had been hard. He hasn’t had hair since he was twenty seven and the jagged gashes on his skull are disconcerting even for him to look at sometimes. But he’s alive, at least. And the incompetent millennial doctor had told him that reconstructive plastic surgery was an option. 

That was the good thing about this place.

No incompetent millennials. Or when there were, they were the waitstaff, like the man coming back with his second glass of whiskey.

He takes a sip. It’s dry, and cold, and just what he wants right now.

“How’s the company?” he asks Sheev. 

Sheev doesn’t smile. He pulls his lips back in what could approximate a smile, but it could not be called a smile by any stretch of the imagination. He makes that face now, and Snoke…

Snoke takes another sip of his whiskey. 

“We are crushing them,” he says. “There will be no competition left soon. No free market, just empire.”

Power. It’s power.

That’s why they both enjoy the country club so much--one of the few places they can feel powerful in a semi-casual setting, while also being able to snap their fingers and get more whiskey. And Sheev--Sheev is the most powerful of them all.

Snoke has known power. He is in charge of his  _ own _ company after all. But still--he knows an Alpha when he sees one. 

“And will you crush me?” he asks quietly.

Sheev looks at him lazily. His face is wrinkled, his eyes a little yellowed. Something from his medications. 

“Only if you get in my way,” Sheev says. “I will, of course, give you the chance to submit first. There is a victory to be had in ceding the floor. The question is: are you wise enough to recognize that?”

“Do you question my wisdom?” Snoke asks. Another sip of whiskey. Once he might have been afraid that he would get too drunk, reveal some secret he shouldn’t. Instead, he’s smiling.

He is able to smile, unlike Sheev. He cocks his head, shifting in his seat, his golden blazer--a bit blasé for the establishment, but he’s old and has been a member for thirty years and the incompetent millennial at the front desk hadn’t had the balls to tell him it violated the club’s dress code--shimmering in the mid-afternoon sunlight streaming through the window. But what surprises him is that he is smiling at Sheev at all. He only smiles when he crushes his own competition, not when speaking with another person about being crushed. 

“I question everyone’s wisdom, especially those I trust,” Sheev replies. “I will not suffer another betrayal.”  _ Vader. _ “Are you wise?”

“Sheev, I’m insulted. After all these years making fun of people playing golf, you’d think that I wouldn’t wish to be on your side?” Snoke asks.

Sheev looks at him with those golden eyes of his. Then he nods and turns his gaze to the golf course again. “Horrible backswing,” he comments on the person who is teeing off now. 

“Indeed,” Snoke says.

Then he feels something warm and looks down. A wrinkled hand in his. He looks at Sheev. Sheev’s eyes are still on the golf course.  _ Is he daring me to refuse him? _

Because his hand is resting on the armrest of the leather studded chairs they are sitting in, he could not mistake it for a handshake. 

It’s something else. That Snoke could never be so foolish as to think might be affection.

And yet he wants it to be.

He wants this man’s approval, his approbation. He wants their companies to merge and destroy the competition together.

Snoke’s hand closes over Sheev’s. He takes another sip of whiskey. 

It is the same color as Sheev’s eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> kinkshame me [here](linktr.ee/crossingwinter)


End file.
